


fall small and keep skating

by peggycarterisacat



Series: Rarepairs Week 2018 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Roller Derby, Sharing a Bed, also this turned out more pre-shippy than shippy, nothing too detailed but this is a universe where joffrey exists so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15047456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peggycarterisacat/pseuds/peggycarterisacat
Summary: “You know I bruise easily,” Sansa said, forcing cheeriness into her voice. It was a weak excuse, but that, a smile, and ‘you know I play roller derby’ was always enough to satisfy anyone who came asking.“That’s a weird place to bruise,” Oathkeeper said slowly. “I’d remember if you fell like that in practice.”Roller derby AU





	fall small and keep skating

**Author's Note:**

> for rarepairs week on tumblr - day two prompt: "tell me this when you're sober"
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with roller derby, the most basic way I can describe it is -- contact sport played on an oval track, both teams are playing offense and defense simultaneously. Each team has a "jammer," the player who scores points by passing members of the other team. Everyone else (the blockers) is trying to stop the other team's jammer. Think American football (no tackling, though), except both teams are going in the same direction at the same time, the ball is a person, and everyone's wearing roller skates.
> 
> Also everyone skates under a fake name that's usually kind of punny but I'm awful at puns, sorry. You can try to guess who's who, or I've put a list in the end notes. 
> 
> I've tried to explain more of the rules in the story without making it too clunky, but in case it doesn't make sense, there's a better summary of the rules in the end notes, too.

 

As they lined up, Sansa grabbed onto Oathkeeper's knee to steady herself. She couldn't show that she was nervous in front of the others, but she thought that Oath would understand even if she didn't say anything. When Oath glanced down, Sansa could see she'd been right. How had Sansa ever been intimidated by her? She could be terrifying on the track, yes, but was always so conscientious and careful. Some of the others still made her a little nervous sometimes, but they were her teammates. They worked well together, and she could trust them.

The plan Rose Rage invented was a little crazy, but she was the captain and she insisted — it was the last jam of the bout, the score was tied, and Killeesi was starting from the penalty box. They needed to do something crazy if they were going to get ahead and stay ahead. The Lead Jammer — the first jammer to burst from the pack —had the ability to end the game at any time. If the other team got ahead by even one point, it was all over. And Killy, once she came back in, lost Lead privileges from her stay in the penalty box.

The only way was to stay in front and play out the entire two minutes remaining. Two minutes was a long time, and Killy was exhausted from all the jamming she'd done through the bout so far.

Sansa had never jammed outside of practice. It was fun — she wasn't so much of a fighter, but she was quick on her feet, agile enough to fake out and dodge around anyone in her way. And once she got up to speed — it was like flying, wind in her face, the steady beat with each stroke of her skates.

But it was also fucking terrifying — painting herself as the target of the entire opposing team, and taking all the pressure of their own success onto her shoulders. And she didn't want to attract that much attention — it wouldn't do if anyone Joffrey knew recognized her.

Joffrey knew she did this, of course — she came home with more bruises than he gave her, so it would be difficult for him not to notice. He thought it was funny, for now. That might change if anyone he knew started asking questions.

"It's the last thing they'll expect," Rose had said, and that was true. Sansa was just a rookie, no one they would expect to be good enough to swap in at this crucial of a moment.

Sansa had wanted so badly to refuse, but then Oathkeeper had looked at her, painfully earnest, and promised to protect her. "We all will," she'd added, her face very red. "We're a team. We all help each other."

Oathkeeper squeezed Sansa's knee in return, bringing her back to the present, and smiled in a way that was meant to be reassuring. Oath was sometimes too self-conscious about how her face moved, making her expressions come out strange, but Sansa knew what she meant.

The jam was about to start — Sansa glanced back. The opposing jammer stood alone, but Killeesi would start only seconds behind when released from her penalty. Then she would pass Sansa the star-emblazoned helmet cover, and _Sansa_ would be jammer — gods willing, she would take off before the other team figured out what was happening.

A deep breath as the jam whistle blew, and she braced herself for impact.

The jammer was coming straight for her — of course she'd try to avoid Oath, and Sansa would look like the weak link between Oath and Stonewall. Both of them braced against her tightly, sealing into a wall just before the jammer hit. She landed between Sansa and Stonewall and shoved a shoulder between them, trying to break through. Then Oath grabbed onto Sansa's hip and swung around, scoring a solid hit that made the other jammer stagger—

"Lady!" It was Killy shouting her name.

Sansa whipped her head around — there she was, on the other side of the opposing blockers walling up to stop her. Sansa stuck her hand back, felt fabric pressing against her fingers — grabbed it and took off without even looking, sprinting on her toes to get out of the pack. When she landed on her wheels again and set into the hard, familiar rhythm, she snapped the stretchy cover onto her helmet.

She'd left behind a hole that let the other jammer through, and she was catching up. Sansa leaned hard into the turn, picking up speed with powerful strokes. This next pass was crucial. They would start scoring points now, one for each member of the other team they passed, and Sansa couldn't give up an inch. With each lap, she would pick up speed and increase her lead, but right now they were close — too close — and the wall ahead was solid.

Every skater had her own strengths — Killy, small and fierce, could easily find the weak points in the wall and force her way through. Stonewall was sturdy on her feet, almost impossible to knock over, and Rose had a sharp eye for strategy and a knack for being in the right place at the right time. Oathkeeper hadn't yet met anyone she couldn't knock down.

But Sansa's talents lay in speed and fast footwork — dodging and juking her way through the pack. Breaking through a solid wall would be a futile and exhausting fight, and she couldn't afford to give the other jammer any room to squeeze ahead.

But the gods smiled upon her — they were packed up at the apex of the turn. If she jumped it, she could make it past in no time at all.

One straggling blocker tried to get in her way, but Sansa dodged around on fast feet. She had only a fraction of a second to prepare, but she'd done this before in practice. She _had_ to make this jump.

Somehow, all of the others trusted her with this — trusted her judgement, trusted her abilities. She had to trust in herself, too — the past year had seen so much growth. Muscles that Sansa didn't even know existed hardening beneath her skin, honed with failure after failure after _failure._ At first, her teammates were the ones to haul her off the floor. Until she learned to fall small and scramble quickly to her feet. Until all the pieces of strange movements slotted together and it started to feel natural.

She could do this.

She feinted to the right, then darted to the inside corner of the turn and jumped.

If it was a clean jump — if she jumped clear over the corner without touching out of bounds — it was legal. But if she missed, it was a penalty and they would lose. Every fiber of her being was screaming as she sailed through the air— she could win everything, she could ruin everything— it was a snap in time, it was an eternity—

Her wheels hit the track— she'd made it through, but stumbled on the landing. Rose caught her arm as she wobbled, giving her only an instant to recover her balance before shoving her forward.

 _"Go!"_ Rose shouted— The crowd roared in surprise— The rest of their teammates on the sidelines were screaming, but Sansa couldn't hear, couldn't let herself be distracted—

The only thing she needed was to go faster and gain as much ground as she could while the other jammer fought through. She had to hold onto her lead and keep doing it for — she glanced at the clock as she passed — a minute thirty. Had it only been thirty seconds? Really?

She was half a lap ahead on her next pass — that was enough time for her team to take a moment away from defense to help her though. Oathkeeper handily obliged, breaking the enemy wall in two. Sansa grabbed onto Oath's hips and hauled herself forward, hard enough to steal all her momentum and launch herself through the gap in the wall, landing at speed and racing away. Four more points added to her total — they were ahead, but couldn't let up even for a moment.

On her next pass, Killy was back in the penalty box for some reason or another — Rose and Stonewall held two blockers off against the sideline, and Oath knocked aside the other one coming for her. Sansa hopped over and kept racing. Next, Oath and Stonewall had the other team split, while Rose harried the one who'd escaped long enough to come after Sansa. That was easy enough to dodge, Rose waving her on with a cheeky grin.

"Not long!" she shouted as Sansa sped away.

Not long. Enough time for one more pass, and Sansa was almost a full lap ahead. But as she next approached, the pack was in flux — Killy returned from the penalty box a moment before, and one of the opposing blockers was also coming back into play. She, not hooked into the existing formation, came straight for Sansa.

She saw the hit coming too late to dodge — she could only crouch down into a lower squat and hope it would be enough to keep her balance. But the other skater was small enough to get even lower, and her shoulder popped Sansa in the sternum. She stumbled, the breath knocked from her lungs, and the other skater took the opening of advantage, carving hard into a turn and catching Sansa against her side — Sansa wasn’t braced for it. She landed hard on all fours and skidded across the concrete floor on her kneepads and wristguards. _No._ Her brain still spun around in her skull as she figured out where she had landed— out. _No_. She had to enter the track again behind the one who had knocked her out, but the other skater was already sprinting back to force Sansa back farther—

Rose, facing backwards, braced Killy and Stonewall by the shoulders and shouted instructions as the other jammer approached— she was gaining, and in just a moment she would hit—

As Sansa scrambled to her feet, Oathkeeper sailed across the track, clobbering that blocker out of bounds. Sansa jumped right back in and clamped onto Oath's outstretched arm. She knew exactly was Oath was thinking, and she was _ready._

Oath planted a foot and spun, flinging Sansa forward, the final burst of speed she needed. Only seconds remained, and she needed _one more point._ Only _one—_

She flew towards two skaters who were half a second too slow to seal up the wall. She got a leg through as they both slammed against her sides, then wrenched her shoulders straight and swung her hips to clear enough space to come through completely. One of them fell against her, and four blasts of the whistle sounded as she hit the ground again, falling to her knees. It was over. Dazed, she looked to the scoreboard first, before trying to get up.

She'd gotten her one point.

Killy, squealing, slid in on one knee and tackled Sansa in a hug. As the rest of her team members reached them to pile into the group hug, Sansa started laughing, exhausted, disbelieving.

"Too much?" Oath asked.

Sansa nodded. Jamming always left her a bit shellshocked — once she'd slotted herself back into reality, her brain still lagged behind her body, reacting on instinct. Noise grabbed her attention and bounced her around like a pinball, and everything had an edge of static to it.

Oath grabbed her hand. Sansa clung tight — she knew how to do _that_ much, at least — as Oath pulled her out of the vortex of shrieking and celebration, and guided her back to the team's changing room. Once the door was shut, dampening the noise outside, she could start piecing herself back together.

She let out a long breath and sat down heavily on the bench, letting her eyes close and feeling the race of her own heartbeat. Little tremors ran through her legs — her muscles were just about done. These were things she never imagined her body would be able to do. She'd always thought _strength_ was a concept just out of reach of her grasping fingertips. Her brothers and Arya were always the sporty ones, but over the past year Sansa had learned so much about herself, discovering hidden talents.

When she opened her eyes again, Oath was half out of her gear and stretching over in the corner — she knew to give Sansa a moment of space, unlike some of their teammates.

Thinking back on it, Sansa couldn't believe she'd ever been afraid of her. On her first day of fresh meat, she caught a glimpse of the previous scrimmage and saw Oath land a huge hit that shook even Stonewall, who was always sturdy on her feet — then saw the two of them laugh it off as they skated off the track.

But outside of practice, she moved awkwardly, always conscious of her size and strength. There was something sweet about it, like watching a large dog cautiously playing with a skittering, clumsy kitten. Sansa didn't feel as lost as a kitten anymore, but Brienne still was gentle in a way that felt almost foreign.

A moment later, Sansa realized she was still watching, a fond smile stuck on her face, and hurriedly occupied herself with her bag. She fished out a towel out and patted her face dry — she hated the feel of sweat on her skin — then each of her limbs as she shed skates and padding. Next, she turned her back to change. Most people didn't give half a damn, but Sansa preferred to change into a nicer bra and fresh jersey for the afterparty. It just felt better that way.

She heard a sharp gasp over from Oath's corner. "How did that happen?" she asked, staring at Sansa's back.

Sansa quickly hooked her bra and looked up at Oath, who was hurrying over. Then she craned her neck to look down her back — she couldn't quite tell what Oath was upset about.

But when Oath came up to her side and gently touched the curve of her lower back — _ow_ — she knew.

"You know I bruise easily," she said, forcing cheeriness into her voice. It was a weak excuse, but that, a smile, and _you know I play roller derby_ was always enough to satisfy anyone who came asking.

"But how did it happen?" Oath asked. "That's a weird place to bruise — I'd remember if you fell like that in practice."

"I'm not sure," Sansa said, trying desperately to sound unconcerned. "I'm really clumsy sometimes—"

"No, you're not."

This wasn't supposed to happen — she was supposed to accept the flimsy joke, and they were supposed to laugh it off together and go back to normal as if nothing had ever happened.

"Yes, I am."

"Sansa—" Real names. Now it was serious. "Are you okay?"

Sansa's throat sealed shut. Words rushed into her brain, but she couldn't figure out which ones were most likely to soothe and pacify, couldn't string them together into a believable excuse.

"Do you need help?" Brienne pressed.

She couldn't muster up words for a long moment. "It's nothing," she whispered.

"That's not nothing—"

"Brienne," Sansa snapped. "Leave it. Just leave it."

Brienne's face crumpled, but Sansa only caught a glimpse. She yanked the clean jersey on, shoved her gear into her bag, and fled the room.

* * *

"You can't avoid her forever," Rose said. Despite the bout, her hair looked as if it had never been within ten feet of a helmet, and despite hours of dancing, her makeup was clear and flawless. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Sansa said. She tried to finish the last of her drink, throwing it back so aggressively that an ice cube bounced off her nose.

Rose raised an eyebrow as she plucked the ice cube from where it landed on the bar. She tossed it back into Sansa's finished glass. "Nothing."

"Don't make a big deal out of it," Myranda said, leaning back against the bar. "Everyone's here, for once."

Sansa usually only put in a token appearance at the afterparty — Joffrey hated when she went out, and especially when she drank. He would call her awful names and accuse her of trying to manufacture a situation where she could easily cheat, of only wanting attention. It was easier to not waste her breath arguing. Easier to just do what he wanted. But giving in didn't really make him any kinder — perhaps he would be less harsh momentarily, but his patience grew short even when she didn't test him.

But tonight, maybe she deserved it. She'd been stupid, after all. She'd let someone see. It was comforting, sometimes, how predictable he was.

Other things were less predictable. She turned her head slightly until she caught Brienne in the corner of her eye, watching her.

"Oathkeeper doesn't usually stay, either," Myranda was saying. "I don't think she's super comfortable at this sort of thing."

"What happened with her?" Rose asked. "Something happened with her, you're acting weird."

"It's nothing," Sansa said again. When she next glanced across the room, Brienne was no longer standing there.

"Killy's buying a round," Stonewall said, settling in with her arm around Myranda. "Did Oath do something wrong?" she asked Sansa. "She thinks she did something wrong."

Sansa sighed and shook her head. She _hadn't,_ but that didn't mean Sansa was ready to face it.

Oathkeeper cleared a path and Killeesi followed, carefully balancing a tray full of drinks and fire — each glass had a thin slice of lime floating on the surface, acting as a raft for a flaming sugar cube.

"Quick—" she said, setting the tray down. Sansa watched dubiously as Killy blew out the flame on her drink and dunked the caramelized sugar and lime below the surface, stirring it in. Sansa repeated the motions quickly — Myranda, unable to stop laughing, was having trouble with hers, and Stonewall leaned over to blow out the flame before the sugar burnt.

"What's the point of this?" Oath asked, pinching only the end of the thin straw as she stirred, as if she expected the drink to spontaneously combust again.

"Looks cool," Killy said, clinking all of their glasses. "Changes the taste a little."

Sansa sipped at it. It was good, but she couldn't much tell the difference — citrus and pineapple dominated. She could barely taste any alcohol in it, but after a few more sips it started hitting. She didn't usually drink anymore, and she'd had more tonight than she normally would have — in celebration or nervousness or maybe she just felt like being self-destructive. Layered over all the rest, it left her a little lighter, carefree. A little bit of tingling in her cheeks and the tip of her nose — she should stop, but she didn't want to be careful tonight. She didn't even know the time now — after Joffrey's first text, she'd turned off her phone — and it was ages since she'd stayed out late. He would be furious when she got home, but that was far enough away that it didn't matter. Now she was with her friends, and that spread warmth through her chest, filling the jagged cavity Joffrey left behind.

Joffrey would prefer that she didn't have friends — he tried hard enough to keep her away from people. She downplayed how much she liked her teammates, feeding Joffrey stories full of petty competition and bickering. He didn't suspect a thing.

"Should I get you a ride?" Brienne asked when the night was over, as they left. She tapped her fingers around the edge of her phone and looked at Sansa for a long time — white neon from a window sign caught in her eyes, blowing the blue as intense as electricity. "You shouldn't go home," she said softly. "Anywhere else, but not back to him."

"I don't want to go home," Sansa whispered.

"Do you want to come over?" Brienne offered. Sansa nodded. "I'm not far," she said, offering a hand as Sansa took a wobbling step forward on legs that still felt like jello.

The passing lights left a streaky afterglow every time Sansa blinked, passing faster than felt natural. She hadn't expected Brienne to live this close to downtown, but, then again, she didn't know what Brienne did. None of them talked much about work — families or kids, for those who had them, or boyfriends or girlfriends. Sansa tried to mention Joffrey as little as possible, and Brienne never talked about anyone either. Weird, to feel like she knew Brienne so well, when they actually didn't know much about each others' lives.

But she knew the important things, didn't she? Brienne was patient and kind, earnest and honest. She'd spent hours skating backwards in front of Sansa at the beginning, hands outstretched to help with balance, until Sansa figured out how to not fall on her ass three times a minute. She'd helped with stopping and hitting and fixing up skates, and neatly wrapped Sansa's ankle up the one time she'd sprained it.

And she helped Sansa up the stairs now, and into her small apartment. Sansa perched on the couch, not really knowing what to do, until Brienne came back with water.

"You're probably dehydrated from the bout," she said as Sansa gulped it down. There — she felt a little better, her head slightly less spinny. She could get a better look at the room now — tidy and organized in a way that felt necessary. Each thing had to have its own place or the small space would be unworkable. "Anything to eat?" she asked, going back to the kitchen.

Despite Sansa's murmured "no, thanks," she emerged with mini-bagels, fruit, and almond butter — something Sansa mentioned she liked a few weeks ago. Sansa absently nibbled at an apple slice, more to occupy her hands than anything.

"What's wrong?" Brienne asked after the silence had stretched a little too long, her voice soft and serious.

"Why did you start playing roller derby?" Sansa asked instead.

Brienne didn't speak right away, but she might humor Sansa's graceless dodge of the question. Her eyes stayed downcast for several slow blinks before she looked up and spoke. "I've never felt like I really fit in anywhere," she said. "But this wasn't like anything I'd ever seen — something that says fuck you to all the rules and then builds something new with everyone who didn't have a place before."

That wasn't even a shadow of a thought in Sansa's mind when she started out. The first time she walked into their warehouse practice rink was the first time she'd ever felt out of place in her life, but she'd quickly leaned to adapt. "I just thought it would be a good way to hide the bruises," Sansa said. Brienne's mouth twisted, but she didn't say anything yet. "Well, not hide. I couldn't hide them anymore, that was the point —  you know I work with Myranda?" Brienne nodded. "She was noticing. I was running out of excuses. But my sister skates over in Braavos, and it seemed like a good story — only I didn't know Randa was dating Stonewall. Then I _had_ to go through with it."

She stopped for a second, studying Sansa with those intense eyes. "You know any of us would help you, right? We'll get you out — you can stay here as long as you like."

"How? He won't let me go." She wasn't naïve enough to think she could just walk away from this with no consequences. He'd always said things, little nagging threats, ever since the beginning. At first, she thought they were things he said in irritation, that he didn't really mean. That he was just drunk or annoyed or stressed out. Back then, he was sweet most of the time and having his attention was reward enough — it was easy to make excuses for the times he was less than perfect.

But somewhere along the line, the balance changed. Now she had no trouble believing he'd do the things he said he'd do.

"What do you think he would do?"

Sansa thought hard about how to phrase this. She didn't want to sound melodramatic or like she was making a big deal out of nothing. "He's said it. That just leaving won't be enough to stop him. That no one can protect me."

"More specifically, what would he do?" Brienne cringed. "Never mind, you don't have to answer that. Maybe tell me this when you're sober — when we're both sober. I can't think right now, but we'll figure something out."

Sansa folded herself smaller into the couch. She couldn't promise that. No one could.

"Is a restraining order an option?" Brienne asked.

"No judge would grant it— he's a Baratheon."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Shit." Sansa sighed and tipped her head back to look at the ceiling. "I don't want to talk about this now. Maybe in the morning."

Brienne found her clothes to sleep in — much too big, but there was something comforting about it. Feeling soft and small in a way that didn't make her weak or afraid.

"You don't have to go," Sansa said as Brienne started to slip out of the room. She was way too tall to be comfortable sleeping on the couch. "I don't want to steal your bed," Sansa said. "And… I don't want to be alone right now. If you don't mind."

Brienne nodded and shut off the light. Blinking, Sansa's eyes slowly adjusted to the moonlight as Brienne's weight settled into the other side of the bed. The presence and the dark were both comforting — she was not alone, but still she could hide her shame.

Sansa lay staring at the ceiling for a long time — Brienne wasn't sleeping either, judging by her breathing, her restless fidgeting.

"They always say not to date someone your dog doesn't like," Sansa felt brave enough to say, now that the intensity of Brienne's eyes weren't on her. "Lady hated him. Wouldn't let him near me. And he— it seems so stupid now. He convinced me she was dangerous. She snapped at him a few times, and what would happen if it was a kid that got too close to her at the park? But she's the sweetest dog. She's literally never been aggressive to anyone else. What was he doing to her?" There was something Myrcella mentioned once, a long time ago, about some of Tommen's kittens. Sansa pushed it from her mind then — it was a story told third-hand, from when they were children, and vague in the details. But now she wondered. "Lady's with one of my brothers now, and after I sent her away, it got bad."

That was the turning point — it had only shown Joffrey how far he could push her. She should have broken up with him then instead of sending Lady away. She facetimed with Jon every so often, and Lady still recognized her voice — but she must be happier there with Ghost and Nymeria and acres of snowy forest to run in.

"I'm such a shitty dog parent," she whispered into the dark.

"The situation was bad and you got her out," Brienne said, just as softly. "You kept her safe. Once you dump him for good you can bring her back."

If she could find an apartment that allowed dogs again — easier said than done. But she'd done it once.

Her hand found Brienne's as she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke, it took a moment to remember where she was, what had happened, and that she was safe — limbs tangled with Brienne's and warm in the morning light. Brienne stirred a little, her hand tightening on Sansa's hip.

She settled back down, wreathing herself in Brienne's warmth and the safety of her arms. They would figure things out, but now she could get a few more hours of rest to ease her aching head.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the future looked bright.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out more pre-shippy than shippy, so I'll probably write another chapter or epilogue or something someday. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Names:  
> Sansa - Lady  
> Brienne - Oathkeeper  
> Margaery - Rose Rage  
> Dany - Killeesi  
> Mya Stone - Stonewall  
> (there are more people on the team but I wanted to keep the number of characters down because this was getting kinda long)
> 
> Rules (these are still a little simplified, and probably not 100% up to date because it's been a while since I've played)
> 
> The game (bout) is broken into two-minute (or shorter) segments called jams. Each team puts four blockers and one jammer out for each jam. It is played on a small-ish oval track. 
> 
> The jammer wears a helmet cover with a big star on it and scores the points, one point for each member of the opposing team she passes. The blockers form the "pack" and try to stop the opposing jammer while helping their own. At jam start, the jammers are behind the pack. The first pass through the pack doesn't earn points, but does set Lead Jammer status. 
> 
> Lead Jammer: The jammer who is in the lead the Lead Jammer. This is determined by who makes it out of the pack first, but it can change if the jammers pass each other. Lead Jammer can end the jam whenever she likes. (Common strategy is to end the jam quickly after you've picked up a couple of points in order to prevent the opponent scoring anything.)
> 
> HOWEVER you can lose eligibility to be Lead Jammer (for the active jam, not for the entire game). If you have lost eligibility but are in the lead, there is no Lead Jammer, thus no one can end the jam and must play out the two minutes. (unless/until the other jammer takes the lead and ends it). If you are in the penalty box at any point during a jam, you cannot be Lead Jammer in that jam. If you attempt or receive a star pass, you cannot be Lead Jammer in that jam. 
> 
> Star passes: this happens when a jammer takes the star cover off her helmet and gives it to another member of her team. The receiving player becomes jammer, BUT she cannot become Lead Jammer. This is generally not done unless the situation is very serious, or one or both jammers have already lost lead eligibility.
> 
> Penalties: you get 30 seconds in the penalty box for a penalty. There are a bunch of illegal hit types that will earn you a penalty, plus--
> 
> Track cut penalties: if you go out of bounds, you must enter the track in the same position you were before - ie you must stay behind anyone you were already behind when you went out. The other team can go backwards on the track to force you to run back before you can enter again. 
> 
> If you're very good at jumping, there's a spot where the turn in the track is sharpest -- you can jump across the inside corner and bypass everyone on the track. This is called jumping the apex and is completely legal as long as you don't touch the ground out of bounds! (but if you do touch down out of bounds it's pretty difficult to STOP before you go back in, which is a track cut penalty. this is what Sansa was worrying about when she jumped.)


End file.
